


My Very Vengeful Valentine

by CelesteTsukino



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteTsukino/pseuds/CelesteTsukino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunters have a Valentine's date with death!  In an attempt to distract themselves from angels and demons, Dean, Sam, and Cas decide to investigate the strange deaths of six local townspeople...only a few miles from the bunker. Unable to look past a case so close, the team set out to the small town of Maron. Tedious interrogations, false leads, and general annoyances soon lead the boys to think this isn't a case at all...just a set of unfortunate coincidences. Except it's Valentine's, and Winchester's don't do coincidences. </p><p>[Set after Cas regains his grace, and before the Mark of Cain.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction has been rated E for future scenes.

"Oh God man, not this...anything but this." the older hunter pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Around him the air felt charged. Childish whispers rose around them like lightning, laughter became like thunder. A storm of sound and terror raged around them, and they were in its eye. Dean felt his stomach drop as though he was on the precipice of oblivion...one wrong step and he would descend into the madness unfolding before him.

"I know it's bad dude, but..."

"No 'buts' Sammy," The color slowly draining from Dean's face, eyes unblinking and transfixed on the scene playing out in front of him. "This is... _by far_...the worst place we've ever been."

 

\--------------------

 

It hadn't started like this. Two days ago Sam had happened upon a local newspaper article while picking up some necessities. Apparently a town a little over 45 minutes away from the bunker was having a few issues. It just so happened that in this case, a few issues meant murders. The article didn't really seem like anything interesting at first, "String of Suspicious Murders Continue in Maron" sounded more like something the authorities were capable of handling. It wasn't until Sam was paying for the groceries that he really took notice. _"Watch yourself out there."_ the large, almost 7-foot tall clerk warned as he handed Sam his bags. _"Six deaths in three days...two of them big guys. Can't be too careful."_ Yeah, that caught his attention.

Five bags of groceries, two newspapers and a car ride later Sam was pitching the hunt to Dean. Sam wasn't entirely convinced it was their thing, but it was too close to their backyard to ignore it. If there was a chance anything knew the location of the bunker, the hunters needed to be prepared. Luckily it didn't take much to convince Dean. They were both a bit tired of demons and angels, so anything that didn't outright scream either sounded like a nice vacation. Cas joining the hunt, however, was a complete surprise. Still being hunted by pretty much every angel on the planet, Dean figured the dude had more important things to worry about. Living, for one. When he's explained the case to the angel over the phone, he wasn't quite prepared for what followed.

_"Of course." Cas agreed, his voice steady over the old, crackling payphone._

_"Oh..." Dean hadn't been expecting that...he hadn't really been expecting anything, honestly. No, that's not entirely true. If he was honest with himself, Dean had hoped the angel would be interested enough in the case to tag along. With Kevin gone and Sam...well...Dean figured it'd be nice to have somebody else around to talk to. Maybe, if he was really lucky, they could even pretend everything wasn't going to shit around them and sit down and have a beer together._

_"I..." The silence on the line lingered longer than it comfortably should have. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have insinuated." Cas retracted, noticing the uncomfortable pause in their conversation._

_"Wait...no...no, it's just...you sure, Cas? I mean, are you back up to fighting order? You haven't had your mojo back for very long." The last thing he wanted was to get into another situation like before--Gadriel forcing Dean to tell Cas he had to go was terrible. Dean never wanted Cas to look at him like that ever again. At the same time, Dean needed to make sure Cas was really ready to take on another hunt...and honestly that had little to do with the state of his grace._

_"If you are insinuating that I am no longer able to handle myself in combat-"_

_"No... **Jesus** Cas! Just--" Dean banged his head on the bunker wall, frustrated with himself. A pissed-off Cas was the second thing he also positively did not want right now. Sighing, Dean gave up. "...come. Please."_

_The line was silent for both an eternity and no time at all._

_"I am fifty-five and three-quarters of a mile away. I will be there as soon as I am able."_

_The line clicked closed and Dean released a breath he didn't realize he was holding._

\-----------------

"I'm sorry, Sam...I might be missing something, but..." Castiel looked between the two brothers, a confused look passing over his features as he tried to better understand the situation. "...how is this... _creepy_?"

Castiel, Dean, and Sam looked out into an ever-increasing crowd of hastily-moving people. Around them, older women were running around with clothes, cases, and sometimes what looked like hair in their hands. The air felt tacky and smelled like a toxic combination of spray-tan, hairspray, and more types of perfume than anyone could identify. Young girls, some looking barely old enough to walk, were parading around a large stage in the center of the room in heavy makeup and extravagant dresses.

“It could be worse...” Sam tried, but was still staring forward...unable to take his eyes off the only thing that could be even more attention-grabbing in a room filled with toddlers in tiaras. Above the stage hung an obscenely-large glitter-and-decoupage banner reading **VA-VA-VOOM'S VALENTINE'S DAY VIXENS / Child Beauty Pageant / 12 and Under**. “Never mind.” Maybe Dean was right...this was horrifying.

"Dude," Dean's voice dropped an octave in horror, "that kindergartener wearing false eyelashes just winked at me. It _could not_ be worse." The hunter looked utterly terrified. "Let's just get this over with--this place is givin' me the creeps. So...who're we looking for?"

"Uhh..." Sam quickly opened his notepad, furrowing his brows a bit as he read, "...it looks like the bodies of Janine Massey and Tyler Oaken, the first two victims, were found together in one of the classrooms--apparently the pageant contestants use them as changing areas--by the janitor three days go. The last time either of them were seen was by an Erin Vixen an hour before the first round of judging for..." Sam looked up, gesturing unenthusiastically to the pageant before them, "...this."

"Well, see as how you brought us to this pint-sized slice of hell," Dean clasped his brother on the shoulder, looked him straight in the eye, and shot him a smile that said _'I know you can't argue with me on this because I'm right.'_ "I call the Vixen."

"Dean--" Sam seemed ready to put up a fight on the subject at first, then huffed his defeat. "You know what? Fine. I'll take the janitor...but you get Cas." Dean's smile magically disappeared and found its way to Sam--the younger hunter looking pleased with himself as he sauntered over to a very chatty looking group of women.

Dean sat scowling in silence as he watched his brother happily slide into character. The dammed cock-block The dull roar of the ever-increasing crowd erupted into frantic clapping as people somewhere did something that Dean honestly couldn't care less about.

"I am still very confused, Dean." 

\-----------

Ten minutes in and he was already hating this. Dean had asked three people where they could find Vixen, but so far they'd been either too busy to give a descent answer, or simply pointed in a general direction. Apparently going back to hastily applying makeup and/or hairspray was more important than a murder investigation. This was getting extremely frustrating, _extremely_ fast. At this point he didn't even care what the chick looked like...he just wanted to find the dammed woman and be out of here. Every room smelled like a cheap date and every hallway was a claustrophobic traffic jam. Dean's jaw clenched and his fists balled as once again they were bumped into by an unremorseful adult--this one didn't even look up to see if the official-looking men in neat suits were alright. Dean's angel backup was so far staying silent about the whole affair, but after a fourth person gave the two men unhelpful directions--which inevitably led them back the way they'd came--Cas decided to speak up.

"You would think finding a single human would not be this difficult."

"Yep."

"Or time-consuming."

"Mm-hmm."

"Dean," the hunter stopped walking as he felt a hand grasp his arm, "if you are... _uncomfortable_...here...I am capable of questioning these people on my own." Cas seemed to choose his words carefully, as though making sure uncomfortable was the correct word to use, instead of something like _unhappy_ or _scared_ or _about to go on a murderous rampage._

He was grateful--really, he was--that Cas noticed and tried to comfort Dean. Honestly it was amazing that the angel had gotten so good at reading humanity in such a short period of time. He guessed it helped that the poor guy was shoved-- _quite literally_ \--into humanity's skin and forced to walk a few thousand miles in their shoes...but still. Humanity is rough. Now, though, Cas can tell the difference between anger and frustration simply by a few twitches in someone's hand and an altered tone of voice. Then again, the angel still got confused by soap operas...and food with faces drawn on them. So maybe it wasn't all of humanity. Maybe it was just him that Cas was getting used to.

"No Cas, I'm not...I'm just..." Dean clenched his fist at his side a few times before he turned around to face the angel. "I just want to find this chick, check out the crime scene, and get out of here as soon as possible. I hate. This place." 

"That's what I don't understand...why? This place looks like it's in preparation for some type of...celebration." Cas cocked his head to the side as he watched a tiny girl walk beside him wearing an even tinier bikini.

"That's just it though!" Dean turned down the hallway and picked back up his earlier pace, motioning to the spectacle around them as he walked. "Everything around here is just... _wrong_. Everyone here is dressed like a hot cheerleader...except...the only people old enough to be hot cheerleaders...are their parents...who I am GLAD are not dressed like hot cheerleaders!"

"So...you disagree with the way the people here are dressed?" It was both adorable and eternally aggravating how naive Cas could be sometimes. 

"Yes! _**No!**_ It's just...I don't know man...this just isn't right. Being a kid's all about ripped jeans and tangled hair...mud, grease, and bloody noses...fireworks, candy, coloring...Kid stuff, you know! These kids should be more worried about...like, anything other than spray tans and hair extensions!" Dean may not have had a real childhood, but dammit he knew what one was supposed to look like...and this wasn't it.

"I see." Cas looked thoughtful. Dean looked doubtful.

The hunter grunted in mutual agreement after a few seconds and pushed forward, continuing down the hallway once again. Five minutes later, however, Dean'd had it.

"Okay screw this...we're doing this the easy way." Dean stopped in the center of the hallway--still bustling with people desperately trying to get to and fro--and yelled. "Does ANYBODY know where we can find ERIN VIXEN!" The crowd instantly ground to a halt. Every eye in the vicinity was suddenly on the two men...some shocked, some a bit appreciative, most just flat-out annoyed. 

"Hello." Castiel smiled, waving awkwardly to a pissed-off grade-schooler with pink sparkles on her cheeks. She glared harder. "...oh."

"YOO-HOO!" a high-pitched voice and raised hand rose above the sea of annoyed estrogen. Satisfied that the situation had resolved itself, the surrounding people quickly lost interest in the two men and continued on their way like nothing had ever happened. Dean was just glad the parents of the Va-Va-Voom competition were more interested in the pageant than a loud man in a suit.

"See... I should'a done that 15 minutes ago." Dean smirked, turning to gloat at a very unamused Cas. 

"Yoo-hoo!" the voice was extremely close now, forcing Dean's attention forward again. "You called?"

As Dean turned to face the adorably-sweet and highly-pitched voice, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that he had made several severely incorrect assumptions. First, not every person named Erin Vixen was a stripper, or, for that matter, ever should become one. Second, a sexy name did not automatically mean a sexy voice--sometimes it was quite the opposite. Third, and probably most importantly, Erin was also a man's name.

"Erin? _You're_ Erin?" Dean's processing filter chose that moment to short out.

“That's what they call me! Aaron the Errand Boy! What'dja need boys?" 

"Oh...I'm sorry...It's just _the newspaper..._ " Dean was already motioning toward an invisible floating newspaper before he realized what he was doing. He had read the paper Sam showed him, and Aaron was definitely spelled with an 'E'. Pretty sure. Mostly sure. 

"My partner thought you were a female." Cas cut in, trying to save the situation which was quickly dissolving into Dean making odd hand gestures. It would have been endearing if they weren't trying to pass themselves off as officers of the law. The hunter shot Cas an 'I was getting there, dude' look.

"Newspaper...?" Aaron began looking more and more confused, brows furrowing in thought. "OH, the article! The murders! Yeah yeah! Poor things... Yeah, I gave the police all the right info but the newspapers fudged the spelling a bit...along with a few other things. Event manager...please! Actually, you confused me for a tic, though--thought you were cops!" Aaron laughed good-naturedly, not noticing the quick change in the hunter's demeanor. 

Dean's face blanked. Shit. Of all the ways to get busted--or almost busted--for not being cops, he didn't foresee a fricking spelling error being one of them. Had he showed Aaron their badges yet? How bad off were they? Dammit all, maybe if he just...

"You two are adorable by the way!" Aaron half-whispered, gesturing subtly between the two men. "How'd you two meet?"

Without missing a beat, Castiel deadpanned, "Dean summoned me to a barn and then stabbed me in the chest." Aaron's face dropped as fast as Dean's stomach.

 **“WITH LOVE!”** Dean all but yelled, smiling, and quite possibly panicking while trying desperately to recover the situation. “Stabbed him in the chest with love! Yes—sir—eee! I... _called_ him...out to a barn...and that's where we confessed our love.”

Cas froze suddenly, looking at Dean like the hunter had just propositioned him for sex atop the holy bible in the middle of Sunday mass—wide-eyed and slack-jawed didn't begin to cover it. The angel would've looked more comfortable in the Den of Iniquity right now. At least Aaron didn't seem to notice anything wrong.

“That. Is. Adorable. You guys are THE cutest couple I've seen in...forever! And that's saying something with it being Valentine's and all!" the man giggled happily, thankfully not noticing how awkward the air around the three of them had become. "Oh! Heavens I completely forgot...Didn't you need something...Mister...?" Aaron trailed, waiting happily for the men's names. 

"Oh, yeah...rude!" Dean laughed awkwardly...brain still trying to figure out how in the world posing as a gay couple was going to get them anywhere on questioning witnesses. Oh well! They were in this now! "I'm John and this is my partner William." Dean announced as he gestured toward the both of them and stuck his hand out for the man to shake. "And...yeah! We did need to talk to you because we're actually...here about--about those newspaper errors." It didn't exactly make sense but whatever...Aaron didn't seem like the kind of guy that would really notice a few inconsistencies in their story.

"Oh?" poor Aaron looked so trusting Dean almost felt bad for him.

"Yes! You see...we're here--my partner and I--" Dean gestured towards the angel. Cas was kind enough to use that moment to snap out of his stunned state enough to pass for a normal human being...whatever that looked like. "--are following up to make sure there were no more errors. We're printing a retraction. So if you could just repeat everything you said last time...to our paper and the police...and we'll make sure we haven't gotten any more of the facts wrong!" 

"Oh, of course. Anything I can do to help catch whoever did this!"

\--------------

Thirty minutes and one classroom later Dean and Cas had way more information than they probably needed. Aaron, as it happens, was blessed with the divine gift of being able to talk about literally anything and nothing at the same time. After learning Janine and Tyler's entire tragic back-story, the errand boy decided to regale them with some choice stories about the historic local churches. Somehow they'd ran into the one person in town who had a love of historical religious buildings, and wasn't that just _wonderful._ Normally Dean wouldn't have stayed five extra minutes longer than he needed to, but Cas seemed absolutely entranced. He guessed it made sense...an angel liking old churches, but still...Kansas wasn't _that_ old. How much info on churches could there be? Apparently a lot.

"-and that was just after the _first fire!_ 95% of the building had smoke damage, but luckily not much of the interior was destroyed. They had to call in--"

"OOOOOKay, Aaron?" Dean had been 95% done with this conversation 20 minutes ago. 

"Hmmm?"

"Look, we would just love, _love_ to stay longer and chat about all of this stuff. Really, we would," Dean glanced over at Cas, still happily flipping through some type of old book about stained glass. Rolling his eyes, the hunter grabbed up Cas' hand and patted it. "but my partner and I _really_ do need to get going. Big retraction to write!"

"Yes." Cas did not seem happy have his hand confiscated. "John is correct, we must go." The angel scowled fractionally at Dean as he was forced to abandon the fascinating literature.

"Oh...well if you must!" Aaron sounded just as devastated as he looked.

"We really must. But thank you again for all the information." Dean held out his hand, followed by Cas, both of which were all-too-eagerly taken and shook by Aaron. 

"Oh my pleasure!" the man grinned and retreated out the room. "Back to work...later boys!"

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I am so glad that is over." he sighed, quickly stuffing his notepad back into his blazer. "If I had to hear one more random church fact...Ugh. Anyway, now we just nee--" The hunter stopped short as he saw the odd expression on the angel's face. "What? Look, I know you liked the guy but come on, he was--" 

_"Dean."_ Cas' voice held little to the imagination...it was the voice someone used when speaking to a young child. The angel's voice said _'Just think about it.'_ about as clearly as a flashing neon sign. Apparently the hunter wasn't catching on as quickly as the billion-year-old celestial being liked; Cas quickly glanced downward...and then was back staring into Dean's soul.

Dean furrowed his brow in question, then quickly followed his line of sight: shoulder...arm...elbow...more arm...wrist... _his hand wrapped tenderly around the angel's..._

He missed a heartbeat as his breathing momentarily stuttered. _Shit. When had that happened?_

Dean shifted away suddenly, forcing himself to disentangle himself from their joined hands. He wasn't embarrassed--he had no reason to be--so Dean wasn't sure why he couldn't look the other man in the eyes. He couldn't miss, however, the slight smirk that briefly appeared on the angel's lips. 

"Not a word." Dean bristled, walking out the classroom door with Castiel only a shadow's breath behind. 

\-----------------

It wasn't much longer after they'd left Aaron that Sam called to meet back up near the entrance. Luckily most of the crazy-loud events or whatever was going on had either stopped or were on break leaving the area mostly headache-free. 

"Yo...Dean!" the younger hunter waved from a few yards away, trying desperately not to step on anyone 1/8th his size. Dean couldn't help it...his brother looked even more moose-like than normal as he swerved through the throngs of tiny humans.

"Dude, it's like watching a moose try to ice skate" Dean laughed as Sam got within hearing range.

"Don't be a jerk." Sam glared as he stopped, standing beside his brother. "So I talked to the janitor and...I really don't think this is us, man. They haven't released it to the papers yet, but apparently the vic's killed _each other_." 

"Witches?" Dean asked hopefully. He hated the bitches, but at least it would be something to do. At this rate he'd be happy for anything that didn't involve angels, demons, or anything trying to kidnap Princess Castiel. He could seriously go for a nice haunting or salt 'n' burn right now. Dean wasn't so lucky.

"Nope--checked for hex bags, sigils, sulfur...and it's clean. We'll have to check the coroner's report to be sure, but it's looking like they just...went at each other. Janitor found a box-cutter near one and one of those marble desk nameplates near the other...both covered."

"Any chance by 'covered' you mean in ectoplasm or pixie dust?" Sam looked slightly amused but shook his head. "Well...this has been a wasted trip, then." Dean raised a hand to undo the blue pinstripe tie hanging from his neck. With a quick flip of the wrist Dean slipped the soft material from his collar and jammed it thoughtlessly into his blazer pocket. 

"Why? Wha'd you two find?"

"It seems both victims knew each other." Cas chimed in for the first time as the three began heading towards the building's exit.

"Yeah, apparently Janine and Tyler were old high-school sweethearts until Tyler got a little careless. Janine gets pregnant, Tyler goes a bit Annikin Skywalker, needless to say they don't go to prom together." Sam shoots an amused look at Dean as Cas struggles to understand the pop-culture references and slang. Dean pauses for a second to regain his train of thought. "Anyways...Tyler moves away--never sees the kid again. Fast-forward a few years, noticed the kid and her mom in the paper and decides to say hi. Monday they're both seen together sighing up for this thing...looking quite happy together. Tuesday someone finds them getting hot and heavy in a broom closet, Wednesday morning they're at each other's throats-- _not in the sexy way_ \--, then Wednesday afternoon--"

"--they're dead." Sam finished with a sigh. "Wait...you found all of this out from the _event planner_?"

"Errand...person actually." Dean shifted awkwardly under his brother's questioning gaze, speeding his walk up a bit more. "And it's a small town in Kansas, Sammy, what did you expect."

"So...nothing supernatural at all...they just..." Sam threw his hands up a bit in a somewhat defeated shrug, sighing, "...got in a fight and killed each other. That's...anticlimactic." 

"Yep, pretty much." Dean raised a hand and unbuttoned the top of his white dress shirt. "Damn, you'd think they'd lower the heat in here."

Sam stopped walking and turned to his brother, smiling. "Dean, it's mid-February...at a _beauty pageant_. It's **_freezing_**." The younger hunter looked Dean over critically for a second. "You okay?"

Dean stopped just short of the building's exit, turning to answer Sam's inane worrying. "Dude, _yes_ , I'm fine...I'm just hot." 

"Your temperature was slightly elevated earlier when we were--" Cas' eyes widened, unable to miss the daggers Dean was glaring his way. "--investigating. I could tell. _From a distance_."

"Maybe Cas should check you out when we get home...just to be on the safe side." 

"Sammy, I said I'm fine...and I am." Dean slid his blazer smoothly off his shoulders, folding it gently over his crooked arm. "I'm just hot. That's it. No evil witches," Dean popped another button from his shirt. "or sinister plots," Another button popped. "or crazy ange--"

Dean didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

In all his years of knowing Castiel, Dean had never seen the angel move so quickly. One second Dean was listing off random things not wrong with him, the next he heard a loud slam and was suddenly up against a wall, slightly off-balance, and staring straight into...Cas' hair. 

"Okay," Dean huffed, slightly out of breath. "cross out the last one." 

"Uh...Cas?" Sam asked quietly from somewhere to Dean's side. At least Sam didn't sound too worried. Traitor. 

"Dude, when I said 'crazy angels' you do know I wasn't talking about you, right?" Damn, his shoulders hurt. How hard had Cas pushed him?

"Dean...I believe you have been marked." Cas finally looked up, staring into Dean's eyes with a mixture of dread and confusion.

"Huh?" Dean responded dumbly. He still felt a bit stunned by this sudden turn of events, but still that sounded...not right. "Wait, what?"

"What does that mean...'marked'?" Oh, now Sam started to sound worried. 

"I do not wish to worry you, Dean--"

"We're kinda getting to that point, Cas." Dean interjected. Cas was not amused.

"--but you have been marked by a cupid." Cas' eyes, still staring straight into Dean's, lost their look of confusion--replaced by a look the hunter couldn't quite place. "Dean, how do you feel? Right now?"

"Uhh..." Dean thought about Cas' question for a second, mind finally catching up to the situation. "Fine? Hot, mostly."

"Yes, that is obvious." Cas' spoke slowly, voice dropping lower than it had in some time. Dean's sarcastic comment died on his tongue. The hunter couldn't ignore the situation any longer--the angel was a billion-year-old vessel of heaven's wrath and he was **_blazing_**. An inferno of blues danced behind Cas' eyes as he stared, unwavering, into Dean's soul. The air between them felt thick with heat and charged with too many feelings Dean didn't have the words for. The pain in his shoulders suddenly dissolved into a blissful numbness and a trail of fire coiling much farther south than he wanted to admit. 

"--okay?" Dean could have sworn Sam was saying something important. "Dean!"

"WHAT!?" 

"...not one to point out the obvious, here...but we're in Kansas." Sam looked a bit anxious.

Dean closed his eyes briefly and sighed, "And?"

"And...?" Sam gestured to the scene before him. Dean still leaned against the wall, his center of balance pushed hard against the plaster behind him. The hunter's arms, which were originally raised in defense against Cas' sudden attack, now pressed against the cool wall as the weight his hands rested lightly on his head. Dean's legs, which were thrust forward to keep balance, now splayed open obscenely--as if the angel had forced them apart. Cas, unphased by both the sudden change in mood and Sam's seemingly random comment about their geographic location, still held an unwavering grip on Dean's shoulders. Dean's bare shoulders. Because of course he had unfastened all but the last two buttons on his shirt. 

Castiel was blocking out about a third of his vision, but Dean could still tell a crowd had started to gather around the three of them. In the hallway. Where they were working a case. In small-town Kansas. Where he was shoved-up half-naked against a wall by another man. 

**_"Shit."_ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a short reminder that this story takes place before the brothers were on SERIOUSLY bad terms, before the mark of Cain, and after Cas regains his angelic grace.

To an outside observer, the large crowd gathering near the exit of the beauty pageant may have seemed excited. Women in the back stood on their toes to look on as children peeked around mothers' dresses. Three men stood at the center of the commotion, looking less pleased to be there as the seconds progressed. They were, however, considerably less enthused with the current state of events. In fact, all three had much bigger problems than even they yet realized.

Dean's face turned sideways; the gaze of the angel proving more difficult to look upon than the midday sun.

"Cas..."

"Yes, Dean?"

"Are we gonna fight or make out because I'm getting really mixed signals here, man."

Cas seemed startled back into reality. With a look of sudden horror, the angel dropped his hands and backed away, "I...my apologies."

"Cas, is Dean in any immediate danger?" Sam asked, concern evident in his voice. Even without turning to face him Dean could tell the dude was ready to bolt. 

"No. Alone the mark is completely harmless, but--"

"Okay, then we need to leave...now." Sam demanded, motioning his head towards the back of the growing crowd. A few yards away an official-looking woman was covering her mouth in outrage as she pointed towards the three men. FBI agents or not, this was not a good place to be right now.

"Yeah well," Dean said, glancing down as he fastened another button on his dress shirt. A quick dip and his forgotten, discarded blazer was off the floor and back over his crooked elbow. Looking between both men, Dean raised his eyebrows in question. "What are you two ladies waiting on?"

Collecting themselves, the three men moved to make a graceful exit. As Cas went to leave, however, he found he was immediately halted. A small girl, barely over six or seven years old with bright pink sparkles on her cheeks, blocked his path. Dean and Sam brushed past without notice, leaving Cas trying to sidestep the obstacle.

"Uh...excuse me..." he blinked, alarmed by the girl's abrupt appearance. 

Without any prior warning the girl burst out crying--her blood-curdling scream startling the angel backwards. "Uwaaa...! Mommmy!" Tears began streaming down her reddened face. "It's the creepy man moommmmyyyyyyy!"

"...Ahhh..." Castiel stumbled, eyes searching the surroundings for some answer. The crowd's demeanor shifted from curious to angry as the girl continued her endless wail. The angel, completely lost, smiled down awkwardly at the child, trying to placate her. "wa--wait..." he stuttered, fake-laughing, "...I'm not _weird_..."

“’Course he's not! He's a big 'ol teddy bear--wouldn't hurt a fly." Cas heard just as a hand grasped his shoulder, fingers gripping the tanned fabric of his trench coat. Dean appeared beside him, flashing a smile at the growing crowd, and pulled. "Just run."

 

\---------------

 

The extensive draw of the pageant had forced the boys to park the Impala farther away than comfortable. Luckily, the caustic chill of February had not yet translated into any form of torrential winter. The Western air, which at times blew biting and cold, now stayed silent and spared them from any further discomfort. As the snow-dusted visage of the black vehicle came into view, Dean quickened his pace.

"There she is." Dean sighed happily, plopping down onto the chilled hood. "You know," Smiling, and glancing over at the still-frazzled angel bringing up the rear, "at some point we're going to look back on today and _laaaaugh_."

"Unlikely." Cas stated, still looking backwards--as if surprised they were not yet being followed. Dean couldn't see the angel's face, but it was easy to picture the glare that accompanied it.

"Yeah," Dean drawled, the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so-slightly, "guess we probably  
 _should_ get outta here..." Cas moved to look at the hunter, brows drawing together in question, "those toddlers looked pretty vicious..."

"Dean..." Cas' face turned stern and exasperated--he was 100% done with the hunter--and that look did him in; Dean lost it.

"Dude, her _face_ though..." he cackled, leaning back almost completely on the Impala's hood.

"Dean."

"...and the sparkles...and you--"

**_"Dean!"_** The angel was suddenly only an arm's length away--looking quite finished with this conversation. If he was anyone else, Dean might have thought he looked embarrassed...but this was Castiel. The look was sobering, to say the least. "I meant to say we cannot _leave_ yet...there are still too many unanswered questions."

"Yeah, like how the _hell_ did an angel get close enough to mark him without either of you noticing?" Sam spoke up, leaning back on his heel near the driver's side, "I mean, Dean sure...but..."

"Hey!"

Cas looked lost, turning again and staring down the snow-dusted path towards the pageant-hall. "I...don't know. Given the proximity...I should have been able to sense another angel, even if they masked their presence."

"Well...what about the cupid's mark, or whatever?" Sam folded his arms around himself. Now that they were not running down the street, everyone was beginning to notice the chilled air. "Do we have anything we need to worry about?"

Cas seemed unsure of how to respond, arms rising as he spoke. "No. At least not immediately. Cherubs...are not violent by nature. Their sole purpose upon creation is to bring happiness and love. Ignoring the fact that one managed to surpass myself, I am unsure why one would target him. It is possible that the closing of Heaven may have negatively affected them, but a wrathful cherub is almost unheard of. It would go against everything they stood for."

"So, what...I'm fine then?" As supernatural creatures went, any form of angel was bad news…but the cupids didn't exactly seem as “warrior of God” as their cousins. Dean knew the little naked freaks at least _seemed_ docile, but then again, he'd really only met one... So it was a weight off his shoulders knowing, at least for now, they didn't need to shank another wingless dick.

"Yes..." Cas looked as though he were backed into a corner. "…except--"

"Wait...Cas, don't Cupids usually mark people...in twos?" Sam asked.

Dean could feel something was wrong. The angel looked strange...off. It was as if the guy was fighting internally with himself. Cas' eyes flicked to Dean for a fraction of a second, and his chest tightened.

"...Yes." Cas said, as if it explained everything. Dean was right...something _was_ wrong. 

"...O...kay, so do we need to be worried about anybody else out there...throwing themselves at Dean or something?"

Castiel's entire mood seemed to shift, muscles tensing as he stood fractionally straighter. It was the stance Dean had grown to both admire and fear...that minute change in attitude that signaled he was no longer Cas--but Castiel, Warrior of Heaven. The angel's body looked ready for battle. The angel's face looked ready for war.

"No. That will not happen." Castiel spoke with an intense assurance that left no doubt. It was like he was speaking a universal truth: The Sun revolves around the Earth, the moon will rise every night, and _that will not happen._

"...because...?" Sam asked.

"Because I believe the recipient of the second mark...is myself." 

Cas still would not look at Dean, and for that the hunter was glad. He felt as though he was sitting naked on the hood of the Impala. His blood ran cold. The air's icy chill, which up until this point had been only a minor annoyance, now bit and burned and scratched at his skin. The wind whispered around him, letting the world know of its returning presence. Dean's breathing felt labored. His heart stammered, struggling to beat against the decrease in oxygen. He needed to breathe. Breathe.

"...Did...you just say..." Sam started, breaking Dean from his thoughts and helping him focus again on reality.

"Or, more accurately, my vessel." Castiel continued, still choosing to focus more on Sam and the ground. It seemed the longer this conversation went on for, the more agitated the angel became. It was obvious Cas was uncomfortable talking about this--he could barely look Dean in the eye. 

"Yeah, but you _are_ your vessel--I mean...I thought Jimmy left the building ages ago?" Sam asked.

"That is accurate--this vessel is simply a recreation of the original owner's genetic structure." Cas said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"So...you cloned him?" Sam said, trying to process that angels were completely fine with just cloning random people. "Okay...but--"

"Truthfully, I am unsure of how to proceed. There is much I do not know...I do, however, know that a cupid has left its mark on Dean. On its own, it is nothing. Dean may feel lightheaded and run a slight fever, but nothing more. The invisible mark would dissipate from his soul within minutes. As it has persisted, it follows that another mark was created."

"Okay...but how do you know it's on you?" Sam asked, as if this whole conversation was impossible to believe. Dean was way ahead of him.

"As Dean began to remove his..." Cas' eyes flickered over to Dean, "...clothing, I noticed the mark."

"So why can't I see anything?" Dean said, crossing his arms against the cold.

"It is invisible to humans, but it _is_ there--tattooed across your sternum--directly above your heart. As I came within proximity of the mark, its presence reverberated. Although I can neither see nor sense a mark on myself, Dean's mark would not react like that for any other reason."

"Oh this is insane..." Sam grumbled, frustration growing the conversation the longer it went. "So, what...can we remove it? What happens now?"

"Luckily, we do not need the original angel to remove the marks. It _would_ be easier to find the original cherub, but considering he was able to mark Dean without our noticing, perhaps not." Cas, the dammed coward, still wasn't looking anywhere near Dean. This had to stop.

"Okay..." Dean lifted himself off the hood of the snow-covered Impala and took a step towards the angel. In that moment Castiel looked more like a kicked puppy than a warrior of God. It would have been adorable under any other situation... Now he just looked beat. "I'm just going to ask...because this is moving into Gabriel levels of ridiculousness." Dean stared the angel down, "You and me," Dean paused, "bottom of the line, end of the day, what happens." It wasn't a question, it was a demand. He needed to know.

Castiel visibly steeled himself, determination returning as solidly as his stare.

“Under normal circumstances humans would begin to feel attraction towards one another. They will feel compelled to be close, to converse…bond. Problems that once may have kept them apart will seem meaningless and dissolve. Compromises would be easier to find. Fighting would diminish. Companionship would turn to lust…to love. It is what cherubs do, Dean--their sole purpose on this earth and in Heaven--and they are extraordinarily good at it.

“But these are not normal circumstances. There is no precedence for this. The marks are not meant for Angels. If Heaven allowed Cupids to target us, as well as humans, there would be madness. Think of how many Nephilim there would be on Earth. That said, in the history of creation there has never been a case of a marked angel…so it is possible there could be unknown side effects. You could become infatuated with me, or there could be no noticeable change in your behavior at all. Nothing is certain.” Cas finished, leaving the two hunters trying to process the wealth of information.

For a very long time the world was quiet again. Around them the air and distant traffic the only sounds making themselves known. Dean didn't know how long he stood there, staring into Castiel's eyes, but it felt like both too long and not enough. In a way, it was a battle of wills. Castiel willing Dean to comprehend the situation...understand he what was at stake for them both. He needed him to know, to understand, and to move on so they could fix this. Dean willing Cas to know he wasn't okay...that if he thought about this too long it would terrify him. It felt as if a dam was about to break.

“So...you’re saying…” Sam started, looking between the two in slight shock.

“We must find a cherub,” Cas stated, turning to Sam, “and force him to remove these marks.”

“I don’t feel any different.” Dean said, breaking his silence. 

“As I said…there still remains the possibility that you will not be affected.”

“So…I _could_ be fine.”

“Yes. But, Dean--” Castiel said, turning back toward the hunter. His eyes, once filled with determination, now looked sad…regretful. Dean felt a weight of fear and trepidation lift. Locking eyes with the angel, he couldn't help but feel bad Cas. There he was, standing there on the verge of freaking out, and he hadn't realized the angel was feeling the same way. Since Castiel realized what had happened, he’d been blaming himself over something that wasn't his fault. “I am sorry. This should not have happened to you. If it will make you more comfortable, I will stay as far away as--”

“Cas.” Dean stopped him there. Cupid curse or whatever the hell this was, it didn't matter. If there was one man who always had Dean’s back, it was Cas. He wasn't anywhere in the ballpark of being responsible for this, and he’d be damned if he let the angel beat himself up because he thought it was. “This isn't your fault, okay? You didn't do this. This may be a shitty situation--and I'll be honest, I'm not 100% with all of this--but you’re not going anywhere. We've still got a case to solve, and we’re gonna' need you with us.” 

The angel was silent for a long moment, eyes searching Dean's for sincerity. Finding his answer, a gradual smile appeared on the angel's face--tension visibly shifting from his frame, “Thank you, Dean.”

"Just...try to keep yourself from shoving me against any more walls, okay?" Dean smirked, grasping Cas' shoulder.

"I shall endure." Castiel laughed, happiness and relief crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Great! Now that that's settled," Dean said, dropping his arm from the angel's shoulder, "what the hell are we going to do about it?"

"Uh...well..." Sam said, clearing his throat as he tried to reenter the conversation. "How about this: Dean and I'll go down and check out the coroner over in the next town. I made some calls and apparently this place isn't big enough to warrant having its own morgue. We'll check out the bodies and hopefully meet back up with you later with some answers. You okay with staying here and looking for the cupid, Cas? I think getting these marks off you two as fast as possible is in everyone's best interests."

"Yes, it is." Cas agreed, "Go. I shall call if I find anything of import."

With everything agreed upon, the two hunters turned toward the car behind them.

"Just...stay inside." Dean winced, stopping to turn toward the angel just as he was about to open the door of the Impala. "You're making me cold just looking at you--it's like negative five out here. Seriously, we need to get you a winter coat or something."

"I...see no point.” Cas said, glancing down at the dusting of snow covering the parking lot, “I am unaffected by changes in both temperature and barometric pressure."

"Really, Dean?" Sam smirked, laughter seeping into his words, "You sure that cupid mark isn't working on you."

Dean's once-smiling face went expressionless. Standing and staring stone-faced at the angel, he weighed the pros and cons of leaving his brother alone in the snow. To die.

"Sam get in the car."

"I'm just--"

"Do not make me stab you."

As the hunters drove off onto the snow-covered street, Castiel looked down at his trench coat with a renewed confusion.

 

\---------------

 

Although Canton was only about forty-five minutes away, it had taken the brothers over two hours to get there. Thirty minutes into their drive they were forced to stop. An accident, requiring at least four fire engines and ten police cruisers, blocked off both lanes of traffic for miles. The good news was that everyone involved seemed to be fine; the bad news was they now needed to go back the way they came and look for a new route. An hour, twenty minutes, five wrong turns, and one gas station map later and they'd finally bypassed the accident.

It wasn't a huge town by any means, but Canton did have a few good qualities. The local morgue was both large enough to hold all six of the victims, yet small enough that nobody noticed their FBI badges hadn't been updated in five years. And that they were, you know, fake. It also had a pretty amazing diner...or so he assumed. Stopping for a burger while investigating six deaths, Cas off on his own, and an overzealous cherub on the loose was apparently frowned upon.

"Dude, it was just a burger." Dean huffed, slamming shut the driver's side door.

"We're in the middle of a case...and you just ate a few hours ago. We can get something after we get Cas."

"Yeah, that's the whole point of getting food _now_. Dude doesn't eat anymore, Sammy...just kinda glares like it insulted him."

The morgue's back entrance was nothing to look at...unassuming and plain. The only defining characteristics of the entire building were a plain brick exterior and small wheelchair ramp. In fact, only two small signs posted beside the door, (one reading "MORGUE" and the other something about "authorized personnel" which Dean immediately ignored), gave away the building's true purpose.

"Yeah apparently he thinks everything tastes like molecules now." Sam stated, stepping up to the plain steel door and pressing a small button resembling a doorbell. A muffled buzzing sounded from inside the building, silencing as Sam removed his finger.

"...uh..." Dean faltered for a second, processing. Why in the world was Cas talking to Sam about food? When did they even have _time_ to talk about the dude's preferences? The idea that Sam had this whole conversation with the angel and without Dean just seemed...wrong. "...and you know this how?"

"I walked into the library and he was just sitting there...eating a PB&J." Dean had to admit...he could see that perfectly. Poor guy probably made a mess of things, too. Guess that explains where all the jelly went. Damn, it must have sucked suddenly being unable to taste food.

"Huh," Dean remarked. He didn't quite remember what molecules were, but they sounded sciency...and not appetizing. "...wonder what molecules taste like, then."

"Bad, apparently."

_"Visiting hours are over for the day."_ A woman's voice crackled through the less-than-modern buzzer system beside the door, halting their conversation. Dean was a bit surprised this place even _had_ any kind of security...it looked a bit small-town for it. Then again, Canton seemed about three times larger than Maron. Dean guessed they could afford somewhat-dated security systems and cute interns. The woman on the other end of the buzzer system sounded a bit too young to be a coroner, but hey...if she was hot... _"Unless you have an appointment, come back between 8 and 11 tomorrow morning, please."_

"Detectives Dimmok and Watson from the FBI...we called a few hours ago?"

_"OH, sorry...yeah. I'm buzzing you in now."_ The connection crackled closed, followed by an even louder buzzer. As they crossed the threshold, Dean had a passing thought of Gabriel's stupid TV-show world (or whatever the hell that place was) and the stupid game show. It seemed like it'd been forever since the whole Lucifer and the apocalypse thing...guess some things just stick with you for a really, **_really_** long time. Like Hell. Or annoying archangels.

 

Upon stepping inside of the morgue, Dean's first thought was that the place was extraordinarily plain. It was like someone along the design road said "Just make it as plain and boring as possible". White walls, white floors, white ceilings...it was the employee entrance, sure, but at least hang up a corny poster or something.

A woman appeared from behind a corner as soon as they were inside. Dean was right--she was a bit young...probably in her early twenties. And _gorgeous_. Short-cropped black hair, bright blue eye, lightly tanned white skin...all packaged up in a pair of killer red pumps. She even looked damn good in that generic white lab coat. Minus the fact she cut open dead bodies for a living, she was sex-on-heels. Closing the distance to the men her endearing smile turned coy. "Hello. I'm Doctor Morrison."

"Nice to meet you Dr. Morrison. I'm Detective Dimmok and this is my partner Detective Watson." Sam repeated again. Both men flipped out their fake FBI badges with a practiced ease before replacing them. "We spoke with a Doctor Taylor earlier about looking over some reports?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you just missed Greg--Doctor Taylor--he left a little over an hour ago...but I'm sure I can help you with anything you need. If you'll just follow me." The doctor took a few steps forward, motioning for the two men to follow behind, then walked back the way she came.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ she can help wit--" Dean drawled, glancing sideways at his brother. Before he could finish the indelicate quip, however, Sam had elbowed him in the ribs and immediately taken off after the coroner.

"Oww--!" Dean exclaimed, taking off after the two, "That behavior is completely unprofessional, Detective."

\----------

A short trek later and they were led to the front of the morgue, behind what looked to be the front check-in and security door. To the side, a small entry led to what seemed to be an office and break room no larger than prison cell. It _felt_ like a prison cell. The space only held a few sleeping computers with matching desks, two back-to back folding tables in the center, and a small coffee area with an old sink along the back wall. Like everything else in the morgue, the room was just as white and bland...no personality at all. It may be a break room, but Dean doubted anyone would volunteer to take their breaks in here. 

"Sorry, it's a bit cramped. We work so much with the dead we forget to make room for the living sometimes." She smirked, humor not reaching her eyes. "Sit down if you'd like--make yourself at home. I'll be right back with the files."

"Oh, sure thing." Dean said, winking as she turned. As the doctor walked away, he couldn't help but follow her form out...peeking around the corner as she walked away. Dean looked back, smiling as he noticed Sam giving him an odd look. "What?"

"Just...you." Sam smiled, leaning against the nearest table. "Cupid decks you...and the first thing you do is hit on a woman." 

"Dude, can you _blame_ me? It's like the universe is giving me a sign." Dean said, motioning towards the door.

"You think the universe is sending you a sign to get laid?" Sam said, looking too smug for his own good, "Really?"

"I...maybe? Hey, it's possible!" It wasn't that crazy of an idea, but then again he was never that lucky. 

" ** _OR_** you've been marked by a _cupid_ and your _hormones_ are haywire."

" _This?_ This is not hormones, this...this is..." Dean trailed off in thought.

"How about you just sit this one out, okay?" Sam offered, standing a bit straighter as the telltale clicking of heels approached the room again.

"Sorry about that. These are the reports Greg filled out on Janine Hardey and Tyler Matters," Dr. Morrison remarked as she reentered the room, handing over two manila files. Sam thanked her as she continued, uninterrupted, "...and _these_ are from the four other victims. You can keep these; they're copies." Dean grabbed the last four files and began slowly glazing over the first report, scowling at Sam. "So, you're think all of these deaths are, what...connected somehow?" 

"We can't officially confirm anything yet...but we are looking into that possibility." Sam said, professional tone easing into a smile. 

"Of course not." she sighed, "I must say, I've been over the reports myself and it's looking pretty cut-and-dry. They both sustained massive offensive and defensive wounds...I'm not really supposed to make assumptions on murder weapons, but they do match the suspected objects found by police at the scene."

"You mean the nameplate and box cutter?" Sam asked, head lifting up out of the reports for the first time.

"Yeah. Mr. Matters, 39, multiple blunt-force trauma to the extremities, two broken ribs, orbital fracture, mandible broken in--not one, but two--places, and then there was the internal bleeding. Lucky for him, he didn't last that long--death was caused by blunt-force trauma shattering the occipital bone leading to cerebral hemorrhaging."

"That's lucky?" Dean looked up, quirking an eyebrow in question. He wasn't exactly an expert on what classified as lucky, but he severely doubted getting your skull shattered by a blunt object fit the description.

"Without immediate medical care he would have died within minutes. The nameplate was apparently made of a hard stone like marble--he died instantly. Anyway, same goes for the other victim: Ms. Hardey, 45, multiple lacerations to the extremities--most likely caused by a sharp, thin blade...deep defensive lacerations and perimortem bruising on both palms...died from excessive arterial blood loss. Oh...and she was missing half her left ear."

"Damn. Dude was seriously pissed-off." Aside from purgatory, Dean had been in some serious knife fights before...but damn. If you managed to hack someone's ear off you were either half-crazed and swinging blindly, or a psychopath. 

"Was there anything strange about the bodies at all? Anything missing or...strange residue?" Sam asked, wondering the same thing as Dean.

"You mean anything strange other than their brutal murders?" she asked rhetorically, then realized the two were serious. "No. They were perfectly healthy before the attacks and nothing strange showed up in the autopsies or toxicology screens."

"What about the other victims...they all die the same way?" Dean inquired, looking up as he passed a rather gruesome image of a man's head crushed by some sort of weight marked '100lbs.' Well that was a bit overkill. 

"More or less. The second two were a mid-twenties couple, Mary and Ben, were found in a bathroom at a local high school--after hours. The boy didn't have such a prolonged death--died of blunt-force trauma...most-likely caused by his head going through a sink. The girl, Mary, was found nearby...suicide. Sliced her wrists open. The last two were found yesterday morning--early. Enough so that the papers had the story running by the time the papers went out. Two football players--big guys training at KU. Both crushed by weight-training equipment."

"They all knew each other then...they weren't attacks on random people?" Sam inquired, looking up from a few crime scene photos of the victims.

"Individually, at least...yeah. One couple, one ex-couple, and two guys on the same football team. I don't know much more past that."

"Alright, well...if we could take a look at the bodies now--"

"I'd like that as well." the doctor scoffed, looking frustrated.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked.

"Well...they're gone...?" the doctor said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?!" "What do you mean they're gone?!" Both questioned simultaneously. 

"Uh...I...mean they're gone?" Black brows knitted in confusion as she looked between the extremely confused men. "All six bodies were transferred from the morgue yesterday...I thought--I'm sorry, I'm confused. Isn't that why you're here?"

"Removed? On who's authority?!" Sam shifted in his chair, like he was trying very hard not to stand up and begin searching the building. 

"Uh..." She looked them over cautiously, "...yours...?"

"Ours....?" Dean echoed. GOD, he hoped that didn't mean more Dean/Sam shapeshifters. He may have been getting fed up with the demon/angel war over the fate of mankind thing, but that did _not_ mean he was looking forward to dealing with those bastards. All that skin and goo and...ugh. Then again, at least they weren't leviathans. 

"I think she means _ours_." Sam deadpanned, looking sideways at Dean, "The FBI." Oh. Well shit. If the feds were involved then that made things much more difficult. The real FBI tended to pop in annoyingly sometimes--especially when they weren’t invited--and screw up the case somehow or another. Then they get blamed for something they didn't do. The last thing Dean wanted was to be declared _not actually dead after all _for the third time. Or fourth. On the other hand, it still _could_ be shapeshifters...just... shapeshifters with FBI badges. Or ghouls. They hadn't decapitated a ghoul in a few months...that might be entertaining. __

__"Of course I mean the FBI...aren't you with the men who came yesterday? To follow up and finalize any details on the cases...take my statement... You're not?" Dr. Morrison took a small half-step backwards, suddenly re-evaluating the situation._ _

__"Oh...I'm sorry," Sam instantly backpedaled looking the picture of innocence. "There's obviously been a miscommunication. You see, we…were told the last two bodies were going to be held here for processing until tomorrow--not enough room to collect all of them the first time. Were you the one who oversaw the transfer?"_ _

__The doctor still looked wary, but her posture and furrowed brows visibly relaxed. The younger hunter managed to not only recover from a horrible situation, but turn it around so she was on the defensive. Dean leaned back, impressed. _Damn. Nice one, Sammy. _____

____"Yes, but it wasn't much of a 'transfer' so much as a 'Hello, he's our badges, we'll be taking the bodies now.' Much less talkative than you two. Took all six...actually seven including an older gentleman that came in right after the last victim." Watching the gears begin to turn in both men's eyes as they turned to each other, Dr. Morrison quickly backtracked, "OH, oh no...he wasn't involved. Nursing home patient. Cardiopulmonary arrest. Ninety-nine years young. Still don't know why you needed him, though. It's lucky he didn't have any family to speak of, because I've already had to deal with six outraged families wanting to know what's going on. Frankly, I'm getting a bit outraged myself." her distaste that the FBI stole an old man's body was not lost in her accusing stare. "Is anyone going to let me know what's going on?"_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\-------------_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Realizing they weren't getting anywhere else with Dr. Morrison, both hunters decided their best best was to make a quick retreat from the morgue. The last thing they wanted was to begin answering questions--like why they knew even less about the case than the feds that showed up the day before. Or why they were driving an Impala._ _ _ _

____A short drive (and Samantha finally feeling hungry) allowed Dean to check out the awesome-looking diner they had past a few miles back. Minus a few beat-up booths and a broken record player, the place ended up just as amazing as it appeared from the outside. Very fifties--with old vinyl’s and metal signs decorating the walls--but nice. Especially their extensive selection of burgers._ _ _ _

____"Something is not sitting right with me about this case." Sam said, attention focused on the small pile of coroner's reports lying on the diner table._ _ _ _

____"Probably because it's not our case." Dean said, plopping down opposite his brother with a tray overflowing with french-fries and the greasiest bacon-cheeseburger Sam had ever seen._ _ _ _

____"Dean,” Sam shook his head in dismissal, stabbing a few choice pieces of lettuce from his salad, “six people were brutally murdered in three days. Then the FBI, or at least people claiming to be the FBI, show up and abduct seven bodies. Not to mention the fact that a cherub is running around. You don't think this is a little weird?"_ _ _ _

____"Four hours ago we left a thousand-foot-tall angel wearing a tax accountant at a Valentine's Day themed beauty pageant searching for Cupid." Dean deadpanned, "Everything about our lives is weird."_ _ _ _

____Sam sent him a look over a fork-full of salad that all but screamed _'seriously not what I was talking about so don't be a smart-ass'._ _ _ _ _

____"Look, all I'm saying is that something isn't right here."_ _ _ _

____"And _I'm_ saying this isn't our thing."_ _ _ _

____"You just don't want to deal with the FBI."_ _ _ _

____"And I don't want to deal with the FBI." Dean admitted, pouring a gigantic mound of ketchup onto his plate, "But what I want to know is, why would the feds be here. They investigate terrorists... gangs...serial killers...so far this is just six people going psycho."_ _ _ _

____"Maybe not..." Sam mumbled, looking down at his cell. "I just got a text from Sheriff Mills."_ _ _ _

_____"Yoo-ee?"_ Dean tried, attempting to say ‘Judy’, but the large mouthful of fries wasn't helping the task. “When’d you text her?”_ _ _ _

____"Soon as we left the morgue. So get this: she called a contact of hers from the FBI...and apparently _nobody_ was sent to Canton to take those bodies. In fact, they're not even looking into the case--I doubt it's even on their radar yet." Sam handed over the phone, showing Dean the lengthy message._ _ _ _

____"So...what? We thinking ghouls?" Dean said, vacuuming up a few more fries. It did fit the pattern. Anytime you put deaths, missing bodies, and shape-shifting together you usually found ghouls._ _ _ _

____"Makes sense...shift into a couple of FBI officers, fake an investigation, steal six perfectly-good corpses and feast for a good few days...weeks, even."_ _ _ _

____"Yeah, but that's a lot of trouble to go through for a ghoul, man. Two FBI agents? At least? Have you heard of any missing FBI agents lately? Plus, the entire county knows about these deaths...after they finish their Caucasian take-out, where are they gonna' hide?" Ghouls liked hiding out in graveyards, but that didn't mean they stayed there. Their form would shift after they fed, copying their last meal._ _ _ _

____"I don't know...they could just lie low for a while. Or...maybe they're keeping a few choice parts of their last victims lying around in case they need a quick getaway. Like a few pints of blood...or a finger or something. Finger-food." Sam smiled at his stupid joke, digging into his half-eaten salad while watching Dean turn an amusing shade of green. The hunter had been halfway through chewing a massive bite of his sandwich when he froze, stone-faced._ _ _ _

____"UGH--well that's a mental image I needed." Dean let the bacon-cheeseburger fall gracelessly back down to his plate, not caring that it just landed straight into his mound of ketchup. He felt sick. _Goddammit Sammy._ _ _ _ _

____"It still doesn't make sense, though. If they're the ones killing everyone, then why just leave the bodies? I'd be a lot easier to just drag them off or eat them there. Whatever's doing this either isn't involved, or needs to wait a while before collecting the bodies again." Sammy was right, of course. It didn't follow that ghouls would just leave their meal lying around; they would take it or eat it there. If not ghouls, though, what? Without so much as one body to examine they were fumbling in the dark. It could be other hunters for all they knew...or werewolves. Hell, it could be pretty much anything._ _ _ _

____"Okay..." Dean sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender, "...that's it. I've lost my appetite and now my head hurts from this stupid case or whatever the hell this is. Let's just go pick up Cas and hope he have some good news."_ _ _ _

____\----------_ _ _ _

____It turned out Cas did not, in fact, have good news._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't want Dean to come across as unintelligent in this chapter. Yes, he's forgotten what molecules were, simply thinking they're "sciency", but he'd probably remember if someone gave him a hint or something. Science isn't all that important to Dean, but he _does_ know enough to understand about medicine and forensics--he has to. Half of his job is investigating weird deaths so he would have to eventually pick up a lot of medical terminology...or at least enough to get by. He figures out that Doctor Morrison is talking about a blow to the head without her having to explain it. Dean is incredibly intelligent--he just needs to be reminded of that occasionally.
> 
> My passing thought was that Dean wasn't put off by Dr. Morrison's job--slicing up dead people for a living--but more by the thought of, "Who willingly wants to go into a profession where they do this every day? _I_ do this once a _week_ , _with_ the fate of the world usually resting on it and I hate it. So what is wrong with this picture."
> 
> All city and town names are fictional, so just go with it.
> 
> Once again, apologies to Kansas.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been chipping away pieces of both my soul and energy for some time now. I fully expect this story to have 5+ chapters and 20k+ words by the end, but I dare not rush myself.
> 
> To keep updated on the status of this fic, or to just say hello, check out my tumblr at: http://www.celestetsukino.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I do not own Supernatural.


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